Your erotic stories

"You first encountered the defendant where, Mr. Philips?" "At my gym. We were members of the same gym." I did not want to be here, in this courtroom. But the DA had intimidated me. He had said that they might delve deeper into why I was in Baltimore—why I had left San Diego. I really didn't want them to do that. I had just fallen into it in San Diego.

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They say you never forget your first time. Although it's been nearly 20 years, I can still remember it well. It was January of 99 and I had just turned 18. 

My parents went out of town to celebrate their anniversary for the weekend, and that meant one thing for me. Busting as many nuts as I could.

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It wasn't until after my third divorce that I decided to try and fulfill a fantasy I have had for many years, to be the slave of a beautiful dominant woman. I joined numerous dating websites and scoured the internet for possible ways to find my dominant soul mate.

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Chapter One- Luann Luann watched the white, fluffy flakes as they filtered through her view in the blinds. It had been snowing since early morning and she was happy to be inside the warmth of Ryan’s flower shop. Her thick mock turtleneck and flannel shirt kept her warm on the outside, but inside she needed nothing extra to warm her; she was already burning with desire.

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Before starting my tour of duty in Okinawa, I thought my primary talent was playing the piano. I was soon to learn otherwise, though, and my late coming to "the" life gripped me like a disease or an unshakable habit. I had known since not long after puberty that I had an unusual attraction. I had formed friendships quickly from my days in high school—and not just with my school chums but with their parents as well.

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I had sat there at Joey's beachside bar for more than an hour, watching the young man playing in the surf. When I'd first arrived at the bar, both bored and out of sorts, I'd seen him on his surfboard, riding the waves and doing quite well at it. At length, however, I saw him tire of that and come up on the beach and bury the tip of the board into the wet sand, with a strong force that, in itself, would have arrested my attention.

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I had always been curious, even if it was just a pang of interest in my mind. Growing up, I had lusted over girls like any other adolescent, the word "vagina" was almost enough to make me cum on the spot. As I grew up, however, I learned to embrace my sexual interests. Once I began to look at pornography, I realized that my eyes were not drawn immediately to the cunt and tits, but to the cock. From that age forward, I began to explore with my gay curiosity.

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His name was Roland and he was from Jamaica. I'm guessing he was about 30. He had deep ochre skin, eyes that were almost black, closely-cropped hair, and was tall, lean and very graceful. At one point in his life he'd been a dancer, but was now a set designer for one of the larger theater companies in Amsterdam. He was just a little bit effeminate, and overtly gay.

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I hurried out of the building, my cock hard and dripping copious amounts of precum, staining the front of my slacks. I awkwardly attempted to cover myself with my briefcase as my mind raced. "Did that really just happen? Did one of the most powerful industrial giants just use me as his cumslut?" I hailed a taxi and offered a generous tip to get me to my hotel as quickly as possibly. Ten minutes later and $30 poorer, I was safely enclosed in my suite at the Hyatt.

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Sixty two year old Wallace Stone wasn't from Saratoga Springs, he was just passing through on business. When after dinner he walked through the park and stopped near the little stage where an angry young man was singing angry songs, mercifully without benefit of amplification. Most of the couple dozen or so folks who were around the performer listening didn't seem much more interested than Wallace was, but the salesman didn't care about them.

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